


Dragon Lord

by unpossible



Series: Magical Bloody Sex Assassin [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpossible/pseuds/unpossible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He suspected, he could hardly fail to hear the rumours, and then there is the way Merlin looks at the Prince. But to <em>see</em>…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a missing scene from Gadarene. If you haven't read it (at least as far as Ch 21) this will make very little sense, so I'd really recommend you stop now.  
> Basically, I am adding alternative POVs for Gadarene, either for things that happen off-screen in that story, or that Merlin and Arthur never witnessed. It's mostly Balinor and Hunith. There may be some Leon action later.

 

The princeling is a good woodsman. But he cannot compare to a man who has lived rough, who has made the trees his only home. A dragonlord, who has been both hunter and prey, from human and beast alike. The knights are tending to their horses in a group, slipping away one at a time to answer the call of nature, and sure enough-

He watches the Prince take his turn, watches Merlin follow shortly after, and his blood burns to see such an obedient slave.

He loses both of them for a few minutes, sacrificing time in favour of stealth, so by the time he finds Pendragon, the Prince is moving again, stalking quietly through the woods, and a bare minute later the two of them meet.

He suspected, he could hardly fail to hear the rumours, and then there is the way Merlin looks at the Prince. But to _see_ …

They are twined together, silent and passionate as they kiss, bodies locked in a long line. He had not expected them to look so-

A startled breath escapes him and if not for their preoccupation, he would have given himself away, so close is he.

But they do not hear. They are stumbling together, hands sliding beneath clothing as they fall against the trunk of a huge oak tree. He hears a bitten-off moan and the knife simply appears in Balinor’s hand.

 _“Arthur,”_ Merlin says, voice wrecked and the dragonlord's hand tightens on the hilt. And then Merlin is – he is – he is _dropping to his knees_ and the knife feels good in his hand, balanced, ready as his son’s fingers fumble with the Pendragon’s lacings-

“Merlin, no,” the princeling says, his own voice rough, this is good, he is a clear target now as he stands like a king with his slave on his knees. The boy is out of harm’s way, Balinor raises his arm, reverses his hold and draws back his arm to throw. “Merlin, _stop_.”

And the dragonlord hesitates, blinking. _Stop?_

The Prince bends abruptly, takes Merlin’s hands in his and says, soft, “I don’t want – _don’t_.”

“But-”

And Balinor can picture the frown on the boy’s face, that beautiful clear face marred by confusion, just the way it had as they’d walked into the castle that day, afraid to believe that he could have a father. Somehow, picturing the expression has his hand wavering and the dragonlord grimaces because he must, _he must_ free his son from these _lies_.

“Arthur, I _want_ to, why-”

“Just, just _don’t_ ,” the Prince says, face twisting, “not-”

And Merlin is leaning back on his haunches, saying, “Oh, _Arthur_. ” And there is such pity and understanding in his tone, from the slave to the master, Balinor almost drops the knife completely. “Oh, love. No. _No_. This is _nothing_ like-”

“I can’t help it- _I can’t_ , not- seeing you on your knees like that, I just-” The Pendragon boy’s voice is thick and he is sliding down the trunk of the tree, the advantage is gone as Merlin wraps his arms around his lover, murmuring gently.

Balinor lowers the knife, stupid with anger and confusion. He did not want to see _this_. Does not want to hear the silken lies binding his son to his master. He fades back into the trees, slow as before, trying not to let the words reach his ears as they gentle one another the way he had once done with Hunith, the way she had done for him, the first time the soldiers came to her village.

The thought of her strengthens him. He will have another chance. He will not fall for Pendragon lies again, though he cannot help hearing them now.

“You _stopped_ him, Arthur, you stopped him that day and every day since-” And now he knows what they are talking about, the whole _castle_ knows about the day the Pendragon walked in on his uncle making free with Balinor’s son.

“It never should have _happened_ , Merlin, it only happened because I chose you-”

“You can’t punish yourself for things that other people have done-”

“I didn’t protect you-”

“You _did_ protect me, you protect everyone but yourself-”

“I can’t stop seeing it, Merlin, I’m sorry, I know it’s weakness but I can’t-”

“You’re not _weak_ , you clotpole, you-”

And then, thankfully, the words stop, though when he glances back one last time it is to see the Pendragon’s hands in Merlin’s hair, and when the kiss ends he turns the lad in his arms so that they can rest beneath the tree. It’s a pretty picture, Merlin’s back against the princeling’s chest, lips pressed to his ear as they murmur softly to one another, hands clasped.

So. It is not with violence, then, that he is controlling the lad. It is with the pretense of affection. He will remember that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His son is shouting at him, the first time he’s ever heard the lad lose his temper, though even in the few days they’ve known one another Balinor has pushed him too far more than once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More indulgence... more Balinor. This is what happened when Arthur passed out at the end of Chapter 20 in Gadarene. Once again, it will make no sense if you haven't read that one first.

 

“You _attacked Arthur_?” His son is shouting at him, the first time he’s ever heard the lad lose his temper, though even in the few days they’ve known one another Balinor has pushed him too far more than once.

“I waylaid him,” he replies, aware that this will not help. But he is no liar. He may be mad, he may have abandoned his family, he may have betrayed Kilgharrah, but there is one thing he can cling to – he speaks the truth. “I caused him no harm.”

“Right. Because that long slice across his throat was caused by the Gryphon’s delicate claws, I suppose.”

“No serious harm,” he amends.

“You followed us out here _to kill him_ ,” Merlin yells, gesturing wildly, and the red-caped knights of Camelot are taking more interest in their conversation now, Balinor notes with a sigh. “Even though we were out here trying to save hundreds of innocent lives you put your revenge-“

“It was not _revenge_ ,” he begins, feeling his own temper spark and knowing it will only make things worse. But what he’d told Merlin was true – he has been a long time away from the company of others and he has lost the habits that go along with it – the instinct to curb a gut reaction. “I simply asked him to release you. And I aided you with the beast when it was needed, did I not?”

“I’m supposed to _forgive you_ because you saved your own skin?”

“I was protecting _you_ , boy,” he snaps back. “As is my given right and my duty.”

 “I’m no duty of yours,” Merlin steps back, suddenly drawing into himself. “I’ve taken care of myself without your help my whole life, I need no help now.”

He sighs. He has misspoken – yet again. Somehow he cannot find the way to reach his son, to bring the boy closer. “I meant no- Merlin. I did not mean to imply that you were – a, a burden, or a duty to me.” He sighs, and glares at one of the knights, the calm-faced one, when he drifts closer. The knight stares back flatly and does not move.

“I am not good with-”

“People?” Merlin finishes, snide, and Balinor sighs.

“With words. _Or_ with people, after all this time.” He swallows, then licks his lips. He must go carefully here. The lad cannot be rational about the Prince, that much is clear. “I am – I am worried that you are putting yourself at risk. Only a few weeks ago you’d have been executed for what you’re doing, and yet. You are putting yourself at the mercy of the man who makes that same law.”

He very carefully does not say _Pendragon_ or _Prince_. He can feel his own face betray him when he uses those words.

The knight stiffens, getting his implication immediately. Balinor ignores him, eyes on Merlin alone.

“I don’t understand what you- he’s the man who _changed_ the law. Remember?”

“I remember.” The knight’s face hardens when Balinor says, “And he can change it again on a whim.”

Merlin’s face goes hard. “And that’s what you think – you think Arthur is using me, and that he’ll lock me up once I’m of no further use.”

“He is _royalty_ , boy, with worries far larger than any one sorcerer. He will put his kingdom first, every time, before friendship, before family, before-”

“I know he’ll put Camelot first,” Merlin stuns him by saying. The knight, too, is blinking. “ _Of course_ he’ll put it first. He holds the kingdom and its people higher than his own safety, father, I’ve known _that_ since the first day I met him.” He takes a slow breath and suddenly Balinor feels as if the world is shifting beneath his feet. He does not know if it is from what the boy is saying, or that he slipped and used the word _father._

“I know him. Better than _you_ do. And _because_ I know him, I wouldn’t ask him to do anything else. But what _you_ can’t bear is that I’ve made my own choice – _and I choose him.”_

He’s left standing, staring at a stony-faced knight when his son turns on his heel and marches back his place. Beside the _Prince_.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking to Merlin is hard, and yet, he manages it. He had spoken to the boy long before he knew who Merlin was, what he meant, what he _should have been_ to Balinor.
> 
> But Hunith. He cannot look at her without the memories twisting to life inside him.

 

When the door opens he is ridiculously unprepared. She is _there_ , after all these years, beautiful and calm and only an arm’s length away. Hunith presses her lips together and then steps back, closing the door behind him. For long moments there is silence, and he stares down at the earthen floor.

“He has your eyes,” Balinor finds himself saying, and then frowns when her breath catches. He hadn’t realized he’d been collecting those pieces of his son but he knows, yes. They’re Hunith’s eyes, kind and level and drawing out the very best of people.

He stops on that thought, stumbling. Thinking of the Pendragon boy, of the way he’d screamed Merlin’s name, despite the knife to his throat, shouting warnings as he’d stumbled in the dark, running toward a monster instead of away.

He blinks. “Our son-” he says, and has nothing more. Talking to Merlin is hard, and yet, he manages it. He had spoken to the boy long before he knew who Merlin was, what he meant, what he _should have been_ to Balinor.

But Hunith. He cannot look at her without the memories twisting to life inside him.

There is no safe series of words he can give her that don’t ache with all the years that have been stolen from them both.

“Yes,” Hunith says, very soft. He shifts, aching to touch her and uncomfortable in his own skin that he cannot, that he no longer has any right. He does not know how to be near her and not-

“You argued with him, I assume,” she says, wry, and he grimaces, strides restlessly around the room. It’s a modest house, neat and orderly, just what he would have expected from a friend of Gaius.

“He will not see reason.”

“He will not see things your way, you mean,” she returns, just as calm and all-seeing as she ever was.

“And why would he,” he shoots back, oddly stung. “Why would he value anything I have to say? The boy has no reason to trust me, I am a stranger to him, Hunith. To my own _son._ ”

He can see some strong emotion ripple through her, but she lifts her chin. “I can apologise, if you like.”

“An apology does not give me back the years I lost-”

“Nor does it return those years to _me_ ,” she shoots back, “Raising a son who was desperate to know his father, living without the man-” She stills, looks away, gathers her calm about her like she would her skirts.

 _Living without the man_ … He just stares at her, oddly unbalanced. What had she been about to say? _…the man who left me to bear his child alone… the man I used to love… the man who broke my heart…_

“It was not my wish to keep you apart, Balinor, surely you must know that,” she finally says.

He can’t swallow the bitterness, much as he tries. It pours out of him, rich and potent from so many years of brewing, “And yet you did nothing to bring us together.” He gestures, short and sharp, accusing. “You sent no word, never asked Gaius where I was-”

“And how should I have told you, Balinor?” She is almost shouting now, “Should I have dragged myself through the mountains of Essetir, heavy with child, calling your name in the hopes that you would hear me?”

He just stands there, staring. In all their months together, he had never seen Hunith angry, never once heard her raise her voice.

“You told me-” and she stops, swallowing down thick tears until she can speak, “You told me you would never return. You told me Uther would never suffer you to live.”

“And I was right.” He turns away, scrubs a hand over his face to avoid seeing her weep. He’d never had any defence against Hunith’s tears. “Because what I’ve had since then was no kind of a life.”

She sinks down onto a rough bench, swallowing hard. “I thought you were dead,” she whispers. “If I had known, known that Merlin could have had a father, someone to guide him-” She turns her face away, breathing hard, and he watches her hands clench in her skirts. When she speaks again her voice is low and full of guilt.

“I taught him to hide himself, to deny what he was, Balinor. And for _what_? So that he could be abused by brutes with no understanding of a heart like his? Do you _know_ what they did? What they did to _my son_?” She is shaking, agony and rage bursting out of her and he meets her eyes. It’s the only thing he can offer her now.

“Yes,” he says, bitterly, “ _I know.”_ It hadn’t helped his rage any to realize Kanen was already dead by the time he discovered who Merlin was. Even the chance to avenge his son’s suffering had been denied him.

“He doesn’t want me to know,” and she is whispering now, broken and brittle. “He wants to protect me, still. Even after all of this, he worries about others first.”

“He gets that from you,” Balinor says simply. And then, incredibly, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “After all, who else would welcome in a man who had betrayed his own kin, who was fleeing from an angry, vengeful King?”

She raises her eyes to his. “It’s not hard to welcome someone who shows their true colours. Sometimes- sometimes you just know.”

He blinks at her, feeling the years drop away for just a moment, and then she blinks, flushing and drops her eyes. And suddenly all he can hear is Merlin, saying _I know him_ and _I choose him._

“Our _son_ thinks he knows.”

She blinks at him, and despite knowing perfectly well it is a mis-step, he can’t hold back the words. He needs Hunith on _his_ side, needs for her to show Merlin the danger he is in.

“He believes himself _in love _with that boy__ _,_ with _Pendragon’s son_.” He shouts, pointing at Camelot as if he could raze it to the ground with a single thought. The white walls and all they represent – power misused, lives shattered by a tyrant, trust betrayed and then betrayed again.

Her colour is a little higher now, and she rises. “If Merlin is loyal to Arthur, then he has good reason. I trust Merlin’s judgement-”

“He’s been the boy’s _prisoner_ , Hunith. He’s been abused and manipulated from the moment he arrived in Camelot and-”

“And you cannot bring yourself to give a Pendragon the benefit of any doubt.”

He takes a step back, then two, suddenly cold. “What do you-”

“I’ve been in Camelot for weeks now, Balinor. I’ve spoken to Gaius, spoken to the people here, and they love their Prince as much as they feared their old King.”

“Their _mad_ Prince. He will use Merlin and cast him aside-”

“He is not his father, and Merlin is not you, Balinor.” Hunith shakes her head at him, mouth a thin line of disappointment. “You’re still trying to find a way to beat Uther Pendragon,” she says slowly, “as if it matters anymore. He’s _dead_ , Balinor, he can’t hurt any of us anymore, but you can’t let it _go_.”

She steps closer. “I know that you haven’t had much time to adjust to the idea of being a father. And I know, too, that you’ve been alone for a long time.” Her eyes are level and clear on his. “But it’s time you learned the first lesson of parenthood, Balinor. And that is to put your child first. _His_ happiness, _his_ satisfaction before yours.”

“Hunith-”

“You have only days left, Balinor, before Merlin - _and_ the Prince - return to Camelot. I hope you can find a path toward letting go of your hate before then.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Dragon Lord](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971947) by [birdie7272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdie7272/pseuds/birdie7272)




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